


Replica

by blackcoffeeandteardrops



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Dad Mulder feelings, Episode: s11e5 Ghouli, F/M, I Don't Even Know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 18:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13530369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffeeandteardrops/pseuds/blackcoffeeandteardrops
Summary: Short ficlet inspired by recent Ghouli promos. Mulder has feelings about Scully and their son during that scene. Yeah, you guys know the one.





	Replica

You wait outside the sterile room that currently houses the two people who mean most to you in this world not because you don’t want to intrude, but because you want to be respectful. Scully has always beared the burden of pain regarding William, though you’ve never asked her to. While it’s a grief you both share, this is a moment she wanted, and you can’t deny her such a simple request.

“I’m so sorry I failed you,” you hear her say, and you close your eyes, willingly letting your head hit the wall hard enough to cause you pain. That she would think even for the briefest of seconds that she failed your son in any way is unthinkable, causing your stomach to proverbially drop to your feet. You hear her wax poetic for a moment about missed opportunities, your breath growing rapid, and suddenly it’s all you can do to make yourself walk rather than run to her side.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you say, holding out your arms to pull her in. She folds into you the way she has countless times before, choosing this time to wrap her arms around your waist. In this moment the two of you are a solid unit, holding each other together because if you don’t, you’ll come unglued.

“I should’ve been strong enough. I should have just waited--” she says, choking out the words between sobs, and you can already feel the tears soaking into your shirt like a second skin.

“No,” you reply, because there is no way you’re about to let her do this to herself, especially not with your son lying in a body bag just a foot away. You kiss her temple, tasting salt, and draw in a breath slowly, through your nose. One of you has to be strong, and right now it needs to be you. “Don’t do this to yourself, Dana. Not now,” you say, needing her to stop just as much for her sake as your own. Pondering what ifs won’t help in this scenario.

She pulls back with more force than necessary, dabbing at an eye with her sleeve. “I’ve jumped the queue, considering the circumstances,” she says, waving a long cotton swab in your direction. “It shouldn’t take long. Will you stay here?”

Despite the evidence found in his home, and despite how much you both already strongly suspect the truth, Scully needs science to prove it’s him. You wonder if her seeing it spelled out on paper will make it any easier for her to face. You watch as her face slips from that of a mourning mother to that of a scientist with a job to do. Words taste like ash in your mouth at the moment, but she’s standing there and she’s waiting and she needs verbal reassurance so even though it hurts, you open your mouth and tell her that you’ll stay. “Yes, Scully. I’ll be here.”

Her heels click against the cold tile floor, a staccato beat that in other times has been a comfort, and you listen intently until you can’t hear it anymore. It’s only now that you risk a glance at the face of the pale, dark haired boy peeking out from his zippered cocoon. You remember the last words Scully’s mother, arguably the nicest and most patient woman you’ve known, spoke not so long ago. At the time, you weren’t sure what she was getting at, and you still aren’t completely sure. But as you stare upon his face, comparing it to the one that stares back at you in the mirror each morning, you know with a certainty you can’t explain what Scully’s tests will say. Seeing it on paper won’t change anything. Your son is named William, too.


End file.
